


Not Even Subtle About It

by grey2510



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Requests (SPN) [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Companionable Snark, Gen, M/M, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s12e08 LOTUS, Sam Ships It, So many movie/tv references, set vaguely in s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: While on a case, Sam realizes just how utterly done he is with the UST between his brother and Cas. It's like they're not even trying to keep their feelings a secret anymore...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majel/gifts).



> Written for Tumblr prompt 42: "I swear it was an accident" with Destiel -- requested by itsmajel

Now that he thinks about it, Sam’s kind of amazed that they don’t get busted on the fake IDs more often. Seriously, how often do the FBI _really_ show up to small towns for cases—especially with no paperwork or calls ahead of time to the captains or police chiefs? There’s gotta be _some_ kind of procedure beyond just a couple of guys showing up in a definitely not government-approved classic muscle car and flashing some badges.

And he’d never admit it to Dean, but he _knows_ if they were actually in the FBI, he wouldn’t be allowed to keep his hair so long. But yeah, there’s no way he’s giving his brother any more ammunition on this front.

In any case, they are now stuck _sans_ cover stories because Dean had taken one look at the cop heading the investigation and marked him as ex-CIA, claiming the guy has a “very distinctive stance".

(Sam thinks Dean just needs to cool it with the _Leverage_ binge, but maybe it’s just because Sam can’t get into the show—the guy who plays Hardison looks way too much like Jake Talley, and Sam doesn’t like guys who’ve killed him, in general.)

(Ok, maybe Sam needs to cool it with the _Firefly_ rewatching binge.)

Anyway, long story short: they need a way past the cops. Or some sort of distraction so at least one of them can sneak in.

“Alright, suits are out,” Dean says from the driver’s seat of the Impala, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. Sam turns sideways so he can see Cas in the backseat; the angel looks almost insulted that his usual attire is unsuitable for this endeavor.

“Well, I have no other clothing, and I somehow doubt two lumberjacks and a naked man would be a convincing way to gain access to the building.”

“Jesus, you’re just not going to let the third-tier agent joke go, are you?” Dean rolls his eyes.

“No.”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek, half-exasperated, half-amused at their old married couple bickering. Instead of commenting on that exchange, he surveys the scene before them. “The techs seem like they have pretty free access. And they’ve mostly got masks on.”

“I’m not Janine,” Dean comments in a weird faux-British accent. Sam raises an eyebrow. “ _Hot Fuzz_?”

Sam shrugs. Dean sighs.

From behind them, Cas chimes in, “I understood that reference.”

“See, even _Cas_ got that. Should be ashamed, Sammy.”

“Whatever,” Sam dismisses. “My point still stands: we need a way in, we could pose as techs.”

“I like the way you think,” Dean says as he opens the door; Sam does the same on his side of the car. “And hey, if it doesn’t work, Cas’ streaking idea would certainly be a good distraction.”

“I am _not_ streaking,” Cas answers, mulishly, climbing out of the car and facing Dean. His expression is just a hair shy of smiting. “Besides, the point is to distract _the police_.”

And with that, Cas strides away, leaving Dean with his mouth slightly agape. Sam can’t help but laugh.

“Shut it,” Dean threatens, jabbing a finger in Sam’s direction; unfortunately for Dean, this doesn’t have quite the effect he was hoping, since it simply conjures up their “Destiel-Deastiel-Casdean" conversation from two years ago, and Sam continues to grin smugly.

Finally, Sam holds up his hands in surrender, and the two brothers half-jog to catch up with Cas, who has gone towards the techs’ van.

There’s only one person standing by the van, and they (Sam can’t tell with the white jumpsuit and mask what pronouns to use) look up in confusion when the angel marches up to them almost aggressively. Cas lifts a hand to the tech’s forehead, and they immediately drop to the ground.

“Hey, whoa, Cas,” Dean calls, stopping at the tech’s feet. “What’re we gonna do with ‘em?”

Cas just gives him a look. “Take their suit and enter the building? Was that not the plan?”

“Yeah, but we can’t just leave ‘em lying around. Someone’s gonna notice.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Sam clears his throat, then steps forward to open the back of the van. Inside is plenty of equipment, and some spare suits and masks in various sizes (luckily—Sam wasn’t banking on finding someone of his height to swap clothes with). There’s also space in the middle to put their unfortunate comatose tech. Without a word, Sam and Dean each grab one end of the tech and haul them gently into the van; Cas, meanwhile, takes the suits and masks they’ll need from their compartment. Within minutes, all three of them are suited up and ready to venture into the crime scene.

Even from behind the mask, Sam can make out Dean’s smirk.

“Admit it, I make this look good.”

“Yeah, covering half your face really helps,” Sam deadpans.

“Bitch, that’s my line.”

Sam’s about to retort with something obviously witty and brilliant, probably using the word ‘jerk’ somewhere in there, just for tradition’s sake, but Cas beats him to the punch and completely floors Dean with a wholly earnest, “It does make your eyes stand out.”

Cas: 2, Dean: 0.

Jesus, they’re not even subtle at this point. Do they even _realize_ how bad they’ve each got it?

 

 

The inside of the crime scene is horrific—Sam is actually glad they opted against FBI and went with techs because the blackish purplish goo from _whatever_ this is that they’re hunting is _everywhere_...except for where there’s blood instead. Techs are practically crawling over the room, and so the three of them blend right in.

“Christ,” Dean mutters. “Cas, any idea what this is?”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Great. Something new. That’s always fun.”

“Or something very old,” Cas suggests.

Dean scowls from behind his mask. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

Cas glares at him, and Sam moves away, and he may or may not be whistling “You are My Sunshine” as he goes to inspect a corner of the room with the EMF meter.

_Splat._

Something lands on Sam’s back, and judging from the smell—even through the mask, it’s strong—he just got a glob of goo tossed at him. He spins around to find Dean looking entirely too innocent.

“I swear it was an accident, Sammy. Just leapt out of my hand.”

“It’s true. I saw it happen,” Cas answers, completely straight-faced.

“You guys suck.” Sam grimaces, trying to reach behind him and wipe it off with a gloved hand. Of course, it’s nearly impossible to reach. “Goddammit.”

“Stop being a pain-in-the-ass little brother and you won’t get monster crap on you. Laws of the universe.”

Cas nods. “I would know. I was there when they were created.”

“What the hell?” Sam complains. Seriously, he expects this shit from Dean, but when did Cas turn on him? Isn’t Cas supposed to be the good one of the three of them? “Well, maybe if you two didn’t act like freaking teenagers with crushes, and, I dunno, _talked_ about whatever this is you two have going on, I wouldn't have to—"

"...what?” Dean sputters.

“Hey, what the hell are you guys doing?” someone asks them from behind a mask. Her voice is stern and judging from the way she carries herself, she’s probably in charge of the operation. “Stop screwing around and messing up the crime scene. You’re lucky we already photographed everything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean replies automatically. “Sorry. We’ll, uh, get back to work.”

“Who are you?” she asks, peering at the three of them intently.

“Uh, we’re new. They called us in for backup. Said it was a messy one,” Sam offers with his best innocent eyes.

She doesn’t seem to buy it. “Where are your IDs?”

“Um..." Dean pats his chest as though looking for a badge. “We might’ve left them in the van...?”

“Goddamn rookies,” they hear her mutter. “Go get them, get back to work, and I’m going to have a word with your supervisor.”

“Yes, of course, sorry,” Cas answers.

“Right, we’ll, uh, go do that,” Dean says.

The three of them book it out of there as fast as they can. Sam can’t believe it—they haven’t flubbed up this bad in _years_. By the nearest dumpster, they strip off the disposable suits; Sam is about to toss his in when Dean stops him.

“You got evidence on there.”

“So that’s what we’re calling it now? Not my big brother’s temper tantrum?”

“Oh, fuck you, man. You started it.”

Cas steps in between them. “Actually, I think I started it.”

Dean squares off, facing Cas, but there’s a half-cocky grin on his lips. “And what, you gonna end it?”

“Perhaps.”

Sam purses his lips and shakes his head minutely. He doesn’t think he can stand another one of their awkward staring contests.

Maybe someday the two of them will figure it out.

 

**********

 

Castiel watches as Sam storms off towards the Impala, still carrying the soiled white jumpsuit. He turns back to Dean, who grins at him.

“Kid still has no idea, does he?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Cas confirms. “I don’t think either of us were even subtle about it.”

Dean shifts his weight. “I feel kind bad, keeping it from him. From everyone. But, I kinda need this, you know? Still getting used to this—to us.”

Castiel nods. “I understand. It’s not as though human-angel relations have ever been...approved of by Heaven.”

“Hey, well, at least we can’t pull a Lucifer and pop out a kid,” Dean jokes feebly before his face falls, ashen. "...right?”

Apparently, the look Castiel levels at him is enough to answer that absurd question, because Dean half-laughs.

“Right, yeah, of course. No freaky angel mojo’s gonna mess up basic biology or whatever.”

“Freaky angel mojo?”

“Wonderful angel mojo is what I meant, obviously,” the hunter backtracks.

Cas can’t keep this up, and he cracks a small smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Dean grins. “One of my many charms.” He nods his head in the direction of the car where Sam seems to be sulking in the front seat. “C’mon, before Princess Samantha has a coronary. Or thinks we’re _really_ up to something.”

As Cas moves past Dean, he murmurs, “That's for later.”

He grins to himself when he feels Dean freeze, stunned, behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is the end of this fic. The next chapter is a bonus, separate ficlet.)


	2. Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Majel gave me two prompts, but I couldn't really make the second one into a full fic. So here it is, though, in all its near-drabbley glory.
> 
> Prompt 11: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” with Crowley
> 
> (This has absolutely nothing to do with the previous chapter.)

Even if Castiel didn’t have angelic senses to alert him to Dean’s movements behind him, he would have noticed the hunter’s approach anyway: his boots crunch loudly in the icy snow and his breath is heavy with the cold air. Without breaking stride, Cas leans to his left, and the snowball Dean lobs misses by a few inches.

“Hey, no fair,” Dean complains, grinning and catching up to Castiel.

“You were attacking me from behind. I think using my powers to avoid that is _incredibly_ fair.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. You’re no fun.”

“I’m an angel. I’m not supposed to be fun.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Ain’t that the truth. Well, you’re more fun than the rest of them.”

“That’s a low bar.”

“Will you two stop making heart-eyes at each other long enough so we can go deal with this spawn of Satan problem?” Crowley calls from beside the Impala, where he and Sam are waiting for them.

Dean and Cas look at each other conspiratorially, and all of the frustrations of the weeks he spent cooped up with Crowley on their search for Lucifer suddenly bubble to the surface. There’s a good three inches or so of snow on the hood of the car they’re walking past, and they each surreptitiously snag a handful.

Of course, not surreptitiously enough, but it doesn’t matter.

Crowley’s eyes grow wide.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba—GODDAMMIT. THIS IS A BRAND NEW SUIT, YOU BLOODY MORONS!”  


Castiel isn't entirely sure, and it's not exactly an accurate saying from a theological standpoint, but he thinks the appropriate phrase here is "karma's a bitch."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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